


A Sunday Smile

by wideeyedandrestless



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28369446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wideeyedandrestless/pseuds/wideeyedandrestless
Summary: Arabella has a desire to return to Shropshire after Jonathan returns from the Peninsula...
Relationships: Arabella Strange/Jonathan Strange
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	A Sunday Smile

Framed by one of the multitude of windows lining Soho-square was the simple but elegant seated figure of Arabella Strange. The direction of her gaze suggested an interest in the verdant square across the way and the occasional passerby but a closer examination would have revealed eyes that were distant and inattentive. In truth, the woman’s mind was far from both the view without and the half-finished embroidery project lying disregarded upon her lap. If either of these simple diversions were meant to occupy her time on any ordinary day their magic appeared ineffectual now.

At a sturdy oak desk across the room sat her husband, head buried in a book and hand holding a much abused quill whose nib was covered in ink that had dried ages ago. Every so often Jonathan would utter some words of mirth at a passage discovered in the tome or begin to relate his thoughts on some aspect of magic only to stop halfway through to scribble ineffectually upon one of the multitude of papers littering the desk and then begin the search for ink. Beyond these sporadic words and the ticking of a clock in the corner of the room the domestic scene was a relatively quiet one. This silence was registered by neither occupant until Jonathan, realizing that several of his comments had met with neither a reply nor simple acknowledgment from Arabella, finally took notice.

Eyes rising from the pages of his book, they shifted to rest upon the pretty figure of his wife. 

“Where are your thoughts, Bell,” Jonathan asked after a few moments observation during which Arabella’s gaze remained on the park and her shoulders rose in the smallest of sighs. 

This directly addressed query was enough to return Arabella’s thoughts to the London drawing room. The knowledge that her mind had been wandering, however, seemed as much a surprise to her as it had been to Jonathan. 

“Oh! I was thinking of Shropshire. A letter arrived this morning,” she said, glancing at the untidy desk at which Jonathan now sat. Undoubtedly she would later find the letter and other sundry papers with his notes written in all the formerly blank spaces but there was little enough reason to pull it out now.

The topic of their home county was not an unfamiliar one. Despite repeated promises of returning soon they had not done so since Jonathan had returned from the Peninsula and it had become a topic that provoked an unwelcome feeling of guilt in Jonathan. In truth, it was not from a lack of desire to return but the very real trouble that whenever they had decided upon the idea something invariably occurred to postpone the trip. If it wasn’t a cold it was the predicament of a close friend or the desire of Parliament for the aid of its magicians in some matter for the country now that the war was at an end. And this was to say nothing of Mr. Norrell, who seemed quite unable to dispense with Jonathan and appeared to take any leave of absence as both a personal affront and an ill omen that Jonathan might never return to the library in Hanover-square.

Jonathan, who might have been inclined to weigh his guilt and his wife’s pleasure against the furthering of English magic at another time, upon seeing a barely suppressed longing in her eyes chose a different path. Stuffing the nearest piece of paper, a list shopping list of Arabella’s, into his book Jonathan pushed it aside and turned his full attention to his wife.

“Mrs. Matthews says the rosebay willow are blooming,” she continued, referring to an aging neighbor who had expressed in several letters her desire to see Jonathan now that he had returned and, better yet, see him settled back in Ashfair. “Mr. Norrell has need of you, of course...”

Something inside of Jonathan cringed at this statement. Norrell could not have his way in everything and surely a short trip could not be so great an inconvenience to his mentor and the cause of English magic that it must be indefinitely postponed to the determinant of the happiness of both Stranges. How often he had thought of Arabella in the Peninsula and how quickly things had fallen into old patterns upon his return.

Jonathan was thoughtful for a moment before rising from his chair and walking over to his wife. 

“Come. Gather your things. We will go for a walk,” he said with a self-pleased smile as he took the embroidery piece from Arabella’s lap and placed it in her open work basket.

Taking exercise when a new book sat waiting for him would have been uncharacteristic for Jonathan at the best of times but hearing the suggestion come from his own mouth was something simply unheard. Arabella tried to curb her astonishment behind a smile but it did little to disguise her disbelief. The day being warm but fair and knowing that any idea that came to Jonathan so quickly was bound to leave equally as fast if not acted upon, Arabella promptly left the room and shortly joined Jonathan in the hallway dressed for a pleasant stroll through the square. It is not Shropshire, she reasoned, but it is something.

They had barely stepped out of their home when Jonathan began to take in the square with a level of interest not unlike their first visit all those years ago when they had been deciding upon a London residence. Arabella reflected that Jonathan had never been particularly good with surprises. The twinkle of merriment in his eyes always gave him away and if you were to ask him what it was that he was doing the truth would either burst forth or he would begin to tell you only to change his mind and throw the plan aside; either way ruining the surprise. Knowing better than to ask, Arabella smiled as she took Jonathan’s arm and let herself be led toward the park at the center of the square.

The park was perhaps not as occupied as it would have been at any other time. It was the warmest part of the afternoon and there was little enough shade to make it feel more comfortable than a sitting room with windows open to a welcome breeze. Nevertheless there were others taking in the summer air: two men discussing something animatedly at the far end of the park, a gardener trimming a nearby tree, and a small, white dog. Arabella’s interest was immediately captured by the last while the creature’s presence was entirely lost on Jonathan, who still seemed to be searching for something. 

The dog’s solitary presence in the park was decidedly out of place. Clean and well-groomed, it was the kind of dog found in fashionable families; an animal whose worth was weighed not by utility but rather by its aesthetic in the domestic scene. Perhaps sensing a kindly spirit in Arabella, it was making its way toward them with a happy wag of its short tail. Arabella had just enough time to notice its expensive jeweled collar when she felt a prickle at the back of her neck. Something about the light seemed to shift and when she turned her eyes from the dog to check the sky for clouds she gasped. 

“Jonathan!”

Arabella looked about her in perplexity. The gravel on which they stood was nothing but an inconsistent patch in a field of light-purple flowers. Gone was the rest of the path they had been walking upon. Gone were the streets and stone buildings of London. All had been replaced by rolling hills, green grass, and wildflowers.

“Are we… Is this truly Shropshire?” While Arabella understood that what she experiencing involved magic it was difficult to reconcile so drastic and unexpected change much less understand how she was seeing it and if it were real.

Jonathan, who had been eagerly watching his wife for her reaction, grinned broadly and assured her that they were indeed in Shropshire and, “Not far from Ashfair.”

There had been times in the war when Jonathan had transported buildings and rivers to aid their men and deter the enemy but never had he done something quite like this for the simple pleasure of his wife. His heart was warmed by her astonishment and glowing smile as she took in the familiar scene and if there was a patch of rosebay willow in the middle of Soho-square than London was no worse for a few hours of country beauty. What was the use of magic if not for the enjoyment and wonder of one’s wife?

Once Arabella’s mind had caught up with the unexpected sight, she placed a hand gently on Jonathan’s arm and laughed.

“When you told me we would return soon this is not how I imagined,” she said, smiling up into the face of the man she had worried over and desperately missed for three years. 

“There are some benefits to marrying a magician, Bell,” he returned, leaning in to kiss her. 

“Do tell me. What are the others?” Arabella’s lips met his before he had the least opportunity to expound on what they were but she already had a good idea.

The white dog, discovering a new world of sights, smells, and sounds to entertain it and no master or mistress to keep it at heel, happily ran into the fields of purple rosebay willow to pursue an entirely different but altogether pleasant new life in the country.


End file.
